


A Small Repayment

by ChocolateCoveredPortals



Category: Half-Life
Genre: F/M, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCoveredPortals/pseuds/ChocolateCoveredPortals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grief is a terrible thing to bear alone. Fortunately, Alyx doesn't have to. [Post-Episode Two]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The heavy scent of aviation fuel hung in the air, and long fingers of sunlight stretched through the shattered windows, illuminating the dust motes floating mid-air. Outside, the sky was just beginning to darken; crickets began to stir somewhere in the distance, and small gusts of wind rustled through the building. It would have been almost a picturesque scene under other circumstances.

Dog lumbered over to the window and paced in front of it, at guard. His single optic scanned the area for any sign of danger; however was mostly an exercise in futility. The Advisors had already fled, and he had failed.

His vision still blurred and head still pounding from the Advisors' psychic attacks, Gordon Freeman--M.I.T. graduate, former employee of the Black Mesa Research Facility, and now Anticitizen One--lay on the floor, taking long, deep breaths, in some attempt to resist the waves of nausea rolling over him. Every muscle protesting with the effort, he propped himself up on his elbows, painfully dragging himself across the floor as the exhaustion of the last few days finally overtook the sense of urgency that had kept him alert. 

Somewhere in the hangar, a door clattered open, and it was as though a switch had turned in his brain. Gordon snapped to attention, rolling himself over to a half-seated position, holding his shotgun at ready, eyes straining to search every dark corner of the hangar for enemy movement. Dog had also heard it; the robot had clambered to the top of the waiting helicopter, his optic widening and scanner flaps flaring out as he spotted something.

Footsteps approached. Gordon cocked the shotgun, shuffling over several inches in what was probably a pointless attempt to conceal Alyx, his heart pounding and breaths coming in shallow, painful gasps. After a moment, he lowered the gun, allowing himself to relax a bit as Uriah, Dr. Magnusson's vortigaunt assistant, appeared.

"The Gordon Freeman?" Uriah's voice, while at a hushed volume, echoed against the walls. "What tragedy has befallen?"

Gordon looked up at the vortigaunt, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. He moved aside, attempting to swallow the dry lump in his throat, and turning his attention toward Alyx. Her slim figure shuddered with quiet, breathless sobs as she clutched her father's body; her grief was almost palpable, and Gordon could actually  _ feel  _ it. Her sorrow washed over him, a very real, physical pain that nearly blinded him.

Over the din of the blood rushing through his head, Gordon could hear Uriah's voice. "The Alyx Vance must move aside." 

Gordon's vision cleared after a few furious blinks, and he saw Alyx, still holding onto her father's still form. On his hands and knees, he moved over to her, slipping his arms around her torso. After a few long seconds of uncontrollable shivering, Alyx let him pull her away, her voice choking as fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Gordon..."

For a brief moment, Gordon wished he could say something that would make it all better for her. The thought quickly faded from his mind; even if he could speak, there were no words that could ease the pain of losing someone so close, so violently, so  _ suddenly _ . Instead, he did the only thing he could think of: wrap his arms around her in a warm embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head, swaying her back and forth, in a wordless attempt to comfort her. 

The curve of Alyx's body fit easily against his, even with the bulk of the HEV suit in the way, and his arms were loose enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. But she didn't, and after several moments she leaned heavily against him, craving his physical contact. Gordon's fingertips rubbed small circles against her shoulder, and as the initial panic and disbelief of her father's death wore off, her brain put up barriers that sent into state of shock, a state which allowed her to easily doze off.

Gordon continued to sit there, holding Alyx, and silently watching Uriah. The vortigaunt was crouched over Eli's still body, green energy emanating from his hand in a desperate last attempt to save him. After a moment or two, he looked up at Gordon. "The Eli Vance was our first collaborator, and this one had the great honour of working alongside him. It is with despair that his cord has been cut." He got to his feet. "We shall fetch the Magnusson at once. The Freeman would do wise to remove the Alyx Vance from this tragic scene."

His physical exhaustion becoming negligible in his concern for Alyx, Gordon gently nudged her shoulder. She mumbled incoherently as he pulled her onto her feet, leaning heavily against him, allowing him to guide her back into White Forest Base.

 

* * *

The base was oddly quiet; the normal chatter and gossip that filled it had given way to hushed whispers as the news and rumours of Eli Vance's sudden death spread amongst the staff. Gordon Freeman waited in the satellite control room, sitting on a tiny folding chair, constantly looking away from the door to the displays on the small CRT monitor. The superportal was closed; the Universal Union had been cut off from earth. He should take a moment to relax.

He couldn't, though. Over and over, Gordon fidgeted, making sure his weapons were loaded; it had been well over a half-hour since he had been called down, and Magnusson, himself something of a stickler for promptness, hadn't shown yet. 

"Ah, Freeman, there you are." Gordon jumped, heart pounding at the sudden sound of Magnusson's voice, and it was all he could do not to leap up and run out of the room as quickly as he could. "Now, as I understand, Dr. Vance was the victim of an Advisor attack." As he began to nod, Dr. Magnusson interrupted. "For God's sake, Freeman, speak up! I do  _ not _ know how I'm expected to understand what you mean if you're not going to  _ say _ anything."

Gordon froze in place, clinging to the gravity gun, shaking uncontrollably at just the idea of being made to say something, being forced to put his thoughts into words--

"I do not mean disrespect to the Magnusson," said Uriah, quietly slipping into the room, "but this one would like to remind him that the Freeman is afflicted with the inability to vocalize under times of severe duress."

Dr. Magnusson let out a stiff cough. "Ah, that is correct. Right, Freeman. Now, I  _ do _ realize you are quite popular amongst the staff here, but you are also a theoretical physicist, and likely unaccustomed to this type of constant combat. I have been discussing with Kleiner--of course, I have to get  _ his  _ approval on any sort of plans--and it seems to be of best interest that your departure for that ship is put off for a bit."

Gordon let out a small sigh of relief--it was a chance to stop for a bit, get out of his hazard suit, and get some actual  _ sleep.  _ Not the quick, five-minute catnaps he had taken, wedged into tight spaces, afraid of some HECU grunt or alien or Combine cyborg finding him, or being suspended in stasis for who-knows-how-many years, but  _ real _ sleep.

The rest of Dr. Magnusson's words became a low drone; Gordon had to force himself to stay awake long enough to slowly pull himself from the chair, plod his way to his assigned quarters, wrestle his HEV suit off, and collapse onto the small cot. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

For hours, Gordon drifted in and out of sleep, his memories interwoven with his dreams, mostly about the life he had left behind: friends and co-workers lost to time. The remnants of his family, too: his little brother, John, who had looked up to him; John's wife, a smiling, broad-shouldered woman who towered over Gordon's head; and John's son Henry, a nephew whom Gordon had never gotten the chance to meet. Twenty years had passed in one fell swoop. He had lost so much, so quickly, because  _ he  _ had been the one to push the crystal into the Anti-Mass Spectrometer. 

Over and over he had tried to justify it to himself: It was his  _ job.  _ If he hadn't pushed the crystal in, somebody else would have and he likely would have been fired. The scientists should have made sure that the Anti-Mass Spectrometer was running at safer levels. There was no way to predict that the Resonance Cascade would happen.

But justifications didn't matter, in the end. Dr. Gordon Freeman had pushed Sample GG-3883 into the Anti-Mass Spectrometer, tearing apart the dimensions to cause a Resonance Cascade, and the world would never be the same. 

Gordon slowly got out of the cot, shivering when his bare feet touched the cold floor. Even though the air in the old missile base was cold and dank, his skin was clammy with a new layer of sweat, and the denim jumpsuit he had been wearing for the last few days under his hazard suit tugged against his skin. After fumbling for his glasses, he felt along the wall until he found a light switch, and then squinted against the glare of the fluorescent lights. 

Out in the brightly-lit corridors, Gordon nearly tripped over a large hunk of metal taking up nearly the entire width of the hallway. Dog looked up apologetically, his optic flaps retracting backwards, before flattening himself against the wall, providing just enough room for Gordon to squeeze by.

In the washroom, the caustic scent of bleach was enough to make Gordon's eyes water. The air against his bare skin was just a few degrees under what he could normally tolerate. In the shower, tepid water only trickled from the shower head, and the soap was rough and abrasive against the chafed parts of his skin. A quick look at himself in the mirror confirmed his suspicions: since that fateful day, he had lost weight, and even with the suit's protection, he was a mess. With bruises of various colours and progressions, cuts and abrasions all over him, and one particularly nasty-looking but nearly painless gash down his side, he looked like he had been to hell and back. 

 A thick towel wrapped tightly around his shoulders against the chill, he hurried back to his room. While he had been asleep, somebody had exchanged his HEV suit for some clean clothes. The shirt and pants were almost baggy against his now-lean frame, and the provided lab coat hung loosely on his shoulders, but he was so relieved to be out of the hazard suit and back into fresh, clean clothes that he didn't really mind. 

He was far too awake now to get back to sleep, and he got to his feet, glancing over at the door, swallowing down his nervousness. He stepped out into the corridor, exchanged a glance with Dog, and then knocked on Alyx's door. 

There was no answer at first, so Gordon paused, shifting his weight back and forth, and then pressed his ear against the door. He tried to tell himself that she was probably sleeping off the trauma, but there was something telling him otherwise--something he couldn't explain, just a vague feeling of discomfort, so strong that it was corporeal. 

After a moment's hesitation, he pushed the door open. In the few seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, he made out her form, huddled under the covers of the bed, sobbing. It wasn't audible, but the way her shoulders were trembling...

Gordon sat at the edge of the bed, his hand shaking a bit as he pulled the blanket away. Alyx looked up at him--wearing an over-sized t-shirt hanging down to her knees, her eyes red and dark bags under them, her hair hanging loose over her forehead, her face gaunt and tear-stained--before opening her mouth to say something. Before she could, Gordon leaned in and pressed his lips against hers in the most gentle of kisses. 

He quickly pulled away, his cheeks flushing red and mentally scolding himself for doing such a thing. For a few seconds, he stared at the peeling coat of paint on the wall, before looking back at Alyx. He took her hand, his stomach sinking at how limp and icy her fingers felt between his own, and looked into her eyes. They were the same eyes as always, bright and clear, but this time there was something there that wasn't before. Not merely sadness or anger or fear; it was more than that, something that he couldn't describe, something that transcended mere words, but he  _ felt  _ it with every strand of his being, and it almost had him in tears. Her eyes weren't on him, however, and before he could figure out what she was looking at, she tugged her hand away from his grip. Brief flits of panic flew through Gordon's mind, the worry that he had hurt her, or--

"Gordon." Her voice was tiny and breathless and he almost missed it over the sound of his own pounding heart. "That--" She lifted her arm a bit, reaching toward the lab coat hanging over Gordon's shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something, but the only thing that came out was a small squeak; she squeezed her eyes closed, swallowing back her tears, unable to bring herself to speak. 

Gordon leaned forward a bit, brushing away a loose strand of hair that had fallen onto her face, and making a silent promise to himself to take care of her. Her father's death had next to broken her; one of the few people she could count on to be there for her had been torn away in the space of a minute and a half, and suddenly things weren't so clear anymore.

"Gordon, that's--" She took a deep, shaky breath, her entire body seeming to spasm from choking, breathless sobs, and reached out for the lab coat. " _ Dad's. _ "

_ Oh.  _ He did the only thing he  _ could  _ do, which was to slip it off and then drape it over Alyx's shoulders. Goosebumps formed on his bare arms and he shivered from the chill that pervaded the room, but he didn't really mind. Other things were more important than his personal comfort. Alyx let out a long, shaky breath, letting herself lean against Gordon. He slipped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap, swaying her back and forth. He was a solid, reassuring presence, and for the first time since the Advisors had broken into the hangar, she felt almost at peace.

They remained that way for a while; eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other. Their breathing was slow and steady, and neither of them spoke. Words now seemed too clumsy and imprecise, and it was better to say nothing at all.

Eventually, Alyx was the first to pull away. Even though her lower lip was trembling, she gave a small, weak smile up at Gordon. He stretched his legs out and got to his feet, a sudden idea forming itself in his head.

"Gordon, wait." Alyx's voice was still shaky and breathless. 

He turned back toward her, pointing to his wrist, then holding up his hands, fingers outstretched.  _ Ten minutes.  _

"You'll come back after that, right?"

Gordon nodded, holding his hand up to his chest.  _ Promise. _

 

* * *

Gordon took two wrong turns trying to find the kitchen. Although it was small and cramped, it was used to provide meals for at least a hundred members of the Resistance, so it was well-stocked. 

He quickly found the mugs, as well as the cocoa; the latter was something of a luxury in these scarce times; he'd deal with the consequences of that later on. Condensed milk, check. Vanilla, check. No marshmallows--oh well. The stove-top would've taken too long, but thankfully the microwave was working, and after a few minutes two steaming mugs of hot chocolate were almost ready.

Except for one last thing. It was something his mother had always done. He clambered up onto the counter-top, reaching for the spice rack on the top shelf, quickly going through the small bottles, reading the labels, searching for one in specific. G _ round cinnamon.  _ Good. He climbed back down, found a teaspoon in one of the drawers, and poured a generous dash of cinnamon in each mug.

He checked the clock; it had been seven minutes since he had left Alyx. One last thing; he reached up in the cupboard, pulling down a tin of cookies. He ignored the attached post-it note -- _ "DO NOT TOUCH! - Dr. M." --  _ and put some cookies on a plate.

_ There.  _ Perfect. With just over two minutes to spare, he headed back to Alyx's room, balancing a tray in his hands.

A good cup of hot chocolate could help treat almost  _ any  _ ailment, Gordon's mother had said on more than one occasion. Now, as he sat beside Alyx, both of them drinking their mugs of hot chocolate, he believed it more than ever. He could feel her sorrow ebbing away as she held the mug in her hands. Still, Gordon knew better than to expect miracles; grief wasn't one of those things that went away quickly with one cup of hot chocolate. Still, just for tonight, it had helped.

With a start, Gordon realized that she had fallen asleep. He got to his feet, about to take the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, and paused, looking back at Alyx. He crouched beside the bed, pulling the light blankets around her shoulder, tucking her in.

Her eyes opened, and she murmured something, lifting her head from the pillow.

"Shhh." Gordon picked up her pillow, fluffing it several times before slipping it back beneath her head. She yawned, snuggled further under the covers, and went back to sleep.

 

* * *

Alyx was awoken the next morning by Dog tugging at her arm; she rolled over, groaning, trying her best to block out the trauma of the day before. 

"What is it, boy?" 

He motioned toward the door, once again tugging at her arm until she got up, pulling on a pair of jeans and sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. Wrapping her father's lab coat tighter around her against the chill in the air, she crossed the hallway to Gordon's room, peeking in the door.

Gordon was laying on the bed, and he looked like shit _ ,  _ curled up in a fetal position, dripping in his own sweat, rocking back and forth with small whimpers of pain. "Gordon?" she asked, leaning heavily against the door-frame, her knuckles almost white. "Are you all right?"

It was almost as though he didn't hear her. Alyx slipped into the room, kneeling beside his cot; only then did Gordon open his eyes. His normally bright green eyes were dulled with pain, and he didn't even seem to notice her as, a few seconds later, he closed them again, his entire body shuddering. Alyx got to her feet, fighting back the unsettling fear growing in her, and went to find Dr. Kleiner.

He was locked in his office, one of the rebels told her, pointing down one of the corridors. With nothing more than a brief wave, she sprinted toward it, banging on the door. "Dr. Kleiner! Open up!"

Several agonizingly long seconds later, the door opened, and Dr. Kleiner peeked out, his eyes red and the rest of him looking twenty years older than usual, but still somewhat composed. "Yes, Alyx? What is it, my dear?"

"It--" Her throat was dry and her voice cracked, and she swallowed before speaking again. "It's Gordon. He--he doesn't look well at  _ all _ ."

Dr. Kleiner shook his head. "Oh dear. I was afraid that this might happen."

"What? Is he--"

"Dr. Freeman's suit is designed to give him frequent administrations of a quite potent cocktail of painkilling drugs. Long-term users of the HEV suit have been known to become somewhat dependent on it, and once they are separated from the suit--well, once the effect of the drugs wears off, the withdrawal symptoms are  _ most _ unpleasant."

"Can't we give him something, or--he looks like  _ hell _ ."

"I'm afraid not, my dear; the best you can do is to make him as comfortable as possible."

 

* * *

She returned to Gordon's room with a glass of water. He was barely able to sit up, let alone hold the glass without spilling the water, so Alyx held the glass for him. Even so, water dripped down his face, but he was in such a state that he didn't even notice. The solid, dependable man that she had come to rely on had been reduced to this shivering, withered husk. 

Alyx was reminded of the time she was stuck in Dr. Kleiner's lab; she had found a magazine with an article about some war in a place called Iraq. It had been called that in the old days--the days before Combine rule, days in which she was too young to remember. In the magazine, there had been a photograph of a worn-out, bedraggled soldier standing at guard in the hot sun; he looked like he was about to fall over. She could almost imagine Gordon in that photograph.

She leaned over, wiping the rivulets of sweat from his forehead, watching his thin chest rise and fall under the blankets covering him. It was odd; they had really known each other for what amounted to a few days, and yet it seemed much longer. She had heard the stories about him; how he had been at ground zero during the Resonance Cascade. And although he had been the one to push the crystal in, hell if he wasn't cleaning up his own mess. In the process, he had become something of a legendary figure amongst many factions of the Resistance; the Vortigaunts often recounted the tale of how the one Free Man had released them from the chafing bonds of servitude that they had endured for eons.

For all that Alyx had heard about him, though, she wasn't really prepared for her first meeting with him--sprawled out on the floor, in a blue citizen uniform, knocked silly by metrocops just seconds before.  _ Not _ exactly the type of man that she would have chalked up to being the world's saviour. 

Nor did he look like one now. He had stopped rocking back and forth in some wild attempt to stop the pain, but he was still a very sick man. 

Still, caring for him throughout the day--sponging cool water over his forehead, giving him small sips of chicken noodle soup, and telling him stories about her days in the Resistance--allowed her some reprieve from her own grief. For a moment, the events of the previous day flooded her mind again, and it took almost everything she had to force out the gruesome images. She squeezed her eyes shut, a chill spreading throughout her entire body as she remembered what had happened.  _ Her father-- _

Just as she thought she was done with the crying, her shoulders began to shake. She turned away from Gordon, frantically wiping her eyes in a pointless attempt to stem the flow of tears pouring out onto her cheeks. It wasn't  _ fair  _ that her father had been taken away so quickly. The Advisors should have killed  _ her  _ instead.

But they were in a war, and war wasn't fair.

Alyx felt a tug at her arm, and she turned her head. Gordon, weak as he was, had pulled himself into a semi-sitting position and was now clinging to her arm, tugging at it, silently asking her to join him. She blinked several times through the blur of tears, and then crawled in beside him.

Gordon dropped his arm with a weak smile. Up close, she could see every furrow of his face, every tiny scratch and wrinkle. Even as tired, gaunt and pale as he was, he was gorgeous. And here he was, in immeasurable pain, almost unable to sit up, and still doing his best to comfort her. 

With a brave effort, she tried to smile back at him; her face felt tight and her eyes were watery, but she was trying, and that was what mattered. She swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was, and got to her feet. "Gordon, I'm--I'm going to go get a drink. Do you want one?" She paused. "I mean, another one."

His nod was barely visible, but he raised his hand a few inches from the blankets and she took that as a 'yes.' She got up, put her slippers on, and headed out to the hallway, pausing momentarily at the door to take one last look at him.

 

* * *

 

She hurried to the kitchen area, trying to avoid all of the sympathy from various members of the Resistance. She needn't have bothered; Barney and his group of evacuees had finally shown up on foot after their train had derailed somewhere a few miles south, and she couldn't go more than a few feet without running into yet another person asking if she was okay, asking if she needed anything, or simply saying they were sorry for her loss.

She couldn't bring herself to be angry with them, though; there wasn't really any way for them to know that she had already been asked these questions a few million times. All of the times she had wished Gordon had been just a  _ bit  _ more talkative seemed to fade to a dim memory. Now she found herself wishing everyone was more like Gordon.

Fortunately for her, she was soon able to make a sprint for the kitchen, making sure that some well-meaning person hadn't followed her in before closing the door. Alyx stumbled over to the counter and leaned heavily against it, forcing herself to take deep breaths, telling herself that she was being silly. It wasn't really much use, though, so before she could give herself a chance to fall apart, she began looking for some clean dishes. As much as she wanted another warm mug of hot chocolate, she didn't think her stomach could really handle it. 

Behind her, the door opened, and Alyx whirled around. Any sharp words on her tongue were quickly swallowed back though when she saw Barney. He apparently still hadn't gotten a chance to shave and the persistent stubble that lined his jaw had grown out into a thick, matted tangle of black hair, and he looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep in days.

"I know, I know, I look like hell." He ran a gloved hand through his thick hair. "Just got here 'bout an hour ago, and since then good luck findin' a bathroom without a dozen people lined up to use it." 

Alyx couldn't help it; a small laugh escaped from her. Barney gave a small, tired smile and then hopped up onto the counter, sitting on the edge, looking down at her. "I'd ask how you're doing since...well, y'know, but you've probably been asked that about..."

She gave a small shrug, leaning against the fridge. "Not too great, really. It was just so  _ sudden,  _ and--" Her voice broke, and she cast her eyes downwards, blinking furiously.

"It's tough, isn't it?" Barney's voice had softened a bit. "For all of us, Al."

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You'd think that after seeing so many others killed--" 

"--that it'd get easier. I know what you mean." They were both silent for a few long moments, before Barney spoke up again. "So, how's Gordon doing?"

She shifted her weight, leaning her elbows on the counter top. "He looks  _ bad _ , Barney, and I have no idea what to do." 

"He's a pretty tough cookie, y'know. He'll be fine. I know you're scared of losin' him after what happened to Eli, but believe me, he'll be fine."

"Losing him?"

Barney cringed. "Oh hell, Alyx. I shouldn't have said that." 

But Alyx was already lost in thought. Losing Gordon. It wasn't something that had occurred to her before; either he'd get better or...she wasn't sure what the other option was, but him  _ dying  _ definitely wasn't something on her mind. Never again seeing him, or--

"Look, there's somethin' else I'd been meaning to bring up with you. About you and Gordon."

"Me and Gordon?" Any attempt at a casual tone was marred by the way her voice faltered, and Barney was quick to notice.

"Don't give me that bull. You know  _ exactly _ what I'm talking about."

She crossed her arms. " _ What,  _ exactly?"

"There's something goin' on between you two. You don't get that look on your face when talking about just  _ anybody,  _ Alyx."

"What're you talking about, Barney?"

"Look, I know the doc's a great guy and all, but I just don't want you going and gettin' yourself too attached to someone again. Look, Al, you remember what happened to your old boyfriend?"

"What the hell are you bringing  _ that  _ up for?"

Barney got up, leaning his head against the wall, groaning inwardly. "Dammit, 'cause of how rough you took it! Look, if anything happens to Gordon--I just don't want you to get hurt again.  _ Nobody  _ does." With that, Barney stood up straight, flexing his back. "I'd better get going before Magnusson throws a fit. You know how he is."

"Good ol' Dr. Magnusson, huh?" 

"Exactly. But Al, before I go, keep in mind what I said. And take care of yourself, yeah?" Before she could answer that, he was gone. Alyx stood there for a few minutes longer, rolling the conversation around and around in her mind, before remembering what she had come to the kitchen for. Maybe a cup of hot chocolate  _ would  _ be nice.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Halfway back to Gordon's room, she was hit with a sudden wave of apprehension, and for a moment or two, she thought that once again, the damn Advisors had made their way back to finish the job. But everything was calm as she made her way to Gordon's room. Her hands full with two mugs of hot chocolate, she used her shoulder to push the door open. "Gordon?" she said. "I'm back."

At first she couldn't see him, but then she made out his form, huddled under a pile of blankets. "Gordon?" She put the hot chocolate on the nightstand and knelt at the edge of the bed, pulling the covers away from him. 

He was asleep, but not peacefully. His fingertips gripped the edge of the blanket as he shifted uneasily; the occasional soft, low groan came from him. Gordon Freeman was in the throes of a nightmare, and Alyx wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Gordon?" She put her hand on his forehead, brushing away the damp hair sticking to his forehead, noting with some relief that his fever had finally broken. "C'mon, wake up."

His eyes still tightly shut, he shuddered at her light touch. "N-no...leave her alone... _ please... _ " came his low voice, nearly incomprehensible between clenched teeth. " _ Please... _ just... _ " _

"Gordon, hun, wake up." She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to an upright position, cradling him against her. From this position, he seemed so vulnerable, so  _ fragile _ . Gordon was a legend, but he was still only human.

He shifted several times, before blinking; his eyes darted left and right, eventually settling on her face, and she felt the tension in his muscles dissipate. "A-a-a-" he stammered, before closing his eyes, leaning his head against her shoulder; she rubbed his back, whispering soft reassurances in his ear.

"Shh...hun...it's all right. You're okay. It was just a bad dream."

With that, he opened his eyes again, his fingertips fumbling against her, as though he was trying to figure out if she was just some figment of his imagination. A few moments later he dropped his arm and tried to smile at her; something seemed to catch in his throat, however, because he turned away, his shoulders shaking, deep, choking sobs coming from deep in his chest as he began to cry.

"Gordon...c'mere, hun." She pulled him a little closer; although his tears wet through her clothes and he was a mess, she didn't mind. He had been through so much that it was little wonder that he was having nightmares, or that he would finally break down under the strain once he was free of the looming threat of impending death hanging over his head. He had taken care of her when she needed it, and now it was her turn to take care of him. 

He was scared _.  _ There was no doubt about that; it was nearly palpable, and almost overwhelmed her mind with the force of it. Fear wasn't something Gordon had shown before. She remembered seeing him happy and angry and worried, but never  _ afraid.  _ He had always seemed so fearless, often putting himself at risk to protect others, or pushing on when everything else seemed hopeless. 

Her father (she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, remembering him, and the Advisors, and--) had told her that Gordon's inability to speak in stressful situations was a way for him to cope, and "for God's sake,  _ don't  _ try to make him talk!" It wasn't always the easiest advice to take at times, honestly; but although Gordon wasn't the best conversational partner, she couldn't imagine him any other way. He didn't need words to get his meaning across; a small, quiet smile, a quirked eyebrow, or a thumbs-up did the job just as well. 

She cradled him in her arms for a while, rubbing his back, reassuring him. His fear slowly ebbed away, being replaced by a quiet, peaceful feeling. 

"Hey," she whispered in his ear, and he looked up at her, his green eyes searching hers. "I made hot chocolate. Not nearly as good as yours, but..."

He smiled up at her, reaching up, intertwining his fingers in her hair and sighing. There were so many thoughts tumbling over and over in his mind. Mostly thoughts about Alyx, and the two of them becoming more than what they were now, becoming actual romantic partners. They had only known each other for days, and still yet he had never met anyone he'd gotten along with so well.

He wanted to make love to her.

The thought came so swiftly he hadn't had any time to stop it. He scolded himself, trying to tell himself that  _ it wasn't the right time,  _ that it was just taking advantage of her after her father's death--but already, his body was starting to respond to that sudden thought, and a low, guttural whine emerged from the back of his throat.

"Gordon? What is it?"

He shifted away from her, trying to avoid her gaze, the way she looked under the lights in the room, everything about her--somehow managing to control himself. A low flush spread up his neck to his cheeks, and he bit his lip, his entire body giving off small tremors, but still, he tried to tell himself, his mind was stronger than his instincts, and he  _ wasn't  _ going to do anything to hurt her, and anyways, he was  _ sick,  _ so--

Alyx leaned closer to him, and the sweat poured down his back as he slowly turned to face her. She looked at him up and down, and then placed a hand on his chest, giving him a light, playful shove. "Gordon, hun," she whispered to him. "You're  _ not  _ good at hiding yourself right now."

She  _ knew.  _ And she didn't seem to have a problem with it. Still, he hesitated, and it was Alyx to make the first move: She rolled over, straddling him, and gave a firm kiss on the lips. There were no reservations between them; they trusted each other and understood each other and they may as well have known each other for years.

Gordon's fingertips traced the two deep scars on Alyx's back, left there by a Combine Hunter attack, a grim reminder that they were in a war, while unspoken questions flit through his mind. 

"Yeah, they still hurt. Um...Gordon," Alyx whispered, her voice small and tremulous. He paused, looking down at her, his green eyes filled with worry and concern, but also love. "Can I ask you something?"

He gave her a quick, reassuring pat on the shoulder.  _ Of course.  _

"I--I was wondering--have you done this before? I mean, this entire 'getting busy' and all--I--" Her face flushed and she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Gordon's response was a sly smile and a wink.

 

* * *

A few hours later, Alyx awoke, shivering a bit as she remembered the events that had transpired. It hadn't gone at all like she had imagined time and time again; between Gordon's severe myopia and her own nervousness, it had more than once been delightfully awkward. Still, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

She lay in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling, letting herself recall every detail, imprinting it into her mind, storing it for another time: The feel of his hands against her. The way his beard tickled against her skin. The way the light played against his hair, showing the reddish tint. His strong scent, unmasked by any sort of cologne or aftershave His gentleness, knowing that this was her first time, making sure time and time again that she was ready for things, not imposing himself on her. The way he had  _ looked  _ at her...

Most important of all was that he was in love with her. Even if he couldn't tell her, it was evident. And, knowing how quickly gossip travelled throughout White Forest, it'd only be a matter of time before the other rebels caught on.

Not that she really minded if most of them found out, but when Barney did...she wasn't looking forward to that. Ever since she could remember, he had taken the role of an overprotective big brother. He had told her to not get too attached to Gordon, and she had gone and done the exact opposite.

Not that she regretted it.

Where  _ was  _ Gordon, anyways? They had both fallen asleep after the act, and she didn't see him anywhere now. She sat up, stretching weary muscles, letting out a soft sigh as a warm afterglow replaced the dull, pulsating pain in her, and reached to where her clothes had fallen on the floor--and paused. Yes, her clothes were there, but also there were a pair of bare feet, sticking out from under the bed. 

She shifted herself a bit more, leaning over the edge, peeking under it. There was a sudden shift, and then Gordon had tackled her, pinning her to the bed, tickling her. She squirmed under him, laughing, and then got the leverage to flip him onto his back, straddling him, giving him an evil grin. He stared up at her, puppy-dog eyes behind his thick-framed glasses, pleading her not to tickle him, but she winked. "Gotcha."

She never would've guessed that he was as ticklish as he was; or that his laughter  _ wouldn't  _ be silent. From somewhere in his chest came a deep, husky chuckle, and soon they had both collapsed next to each other, trying to catch their breath, pulling their clothes on. 

They both lay there for a while; and then Gordon was the first to sit up. He looked down at Alyx with a gentle smile, his fingertips brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her cheek. Their eyes met, and Alyx smiled back up at him. "Yeah--I'm doing better since--" She lowered her eyes and her lower lip began to tremble, but Gordon gave a quick squeeze to her arm and she looked back up. "Okay, okay, not completely. I mean, it's just--"

Gordon shifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder and pulling her closer against his side; once again, he was a solid, reassuring presence.

She pulled herself together, wiping her nose and smiling up at him. "I--I just--wanted to say thank you. For putting up with me. And for--looking out for me. You didn't have to--but--thank you." 

Another quick squeeze of her arm was his response.

"Gordon--you know last night, when--" Her face reddened a bit. "M-mind if I ask...something else?" He nodded, raising an eyebrow, and she continued. "You--I mean you said you've...uhh...before. So...you had like a girlfriend, right?"

Gordon simply grinned.

"I'll...take that as a yes, then." She averted her eyes, and her voice dropped to a shy whisper. "Was she...um...better than me?"

At first she thought she had said something wrong, because Gordon turned toward her with a serious expression on his face. He put his hands on her shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. 

Alyx took a shuddering breath, looking up at him. "...Silly question, wasn't it?" 

His answer was a wink. 

"I had a boyfriend. Once. It was over a year ago." She snuggled a bit closer to Gordon, leaning her head against his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair. "He was deaf. Couldn't hear anything at all, though he knew sign language. But then..." 

Alyx squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the day her father had called her into the small cubbyhole that he called his 'office' in Black Mesa East. "Barney's just given me some bad news." At the time, the future had seemed pessimistic; there was no way that a scattered band of human rebels could fight against the Combine's military machine, let alone free the Earth from its baleful influence. 

"He--the Combine caught him. He was out on the coast somewhere and--from what I was told--they managed to sneak up on him. Because he couldn't hear anything and--" She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, trying to form them into words, suddenly understanding Gordon's lack of speech. "He got shipped off to Nova Prospekt. To become one of those--one of those  _ things  _ we saw on the train."

_ A stalker. _ Gordon lifted his hand, about to run it through her hair again, and then paused a moment before lowering it. He knew what grief was like. It wasn't something you could just shake off after a few weeks and then carry on. Grief lingered with you for years, arising at the worst times, and there wasn't much you could do about it except simply smiling and carrying on like everything was fine.

He knew. His mother and father, who had been so proud when Gordon had gotten accepted to M.I.T., had died in a car accident during his second year. He'd left school for a few months to look after his younger brother, who was still in school; with no other living relatives in the Freeman family, it was either that or a foster home, and there was no way he was going to lose John to the system. It had even appeared in the newspaper of his small Seattle suburban hometown:  _ Top Student at M.I.T. Returns Home From School to Assist Mentally Handicapped Brother _ . The article itself was just as stupid as the headline, and it had pissed Gordon off to the point where he phoned into the office to yell at the editor. 

It had taken them a while to recover, but time was the most powerful medicine when it came to grief. But in the middle of a war, time was a precious commodity, and he knew that they both couldn't put off the departure for the Borealis for much longer.

"Gordon?" He was snapped out of his memories by Alyx's soft voice. "Is it all right if--I thought, since I know some sign language and all, I--" She gave a nervous smile. "Since you don't talk much, I could show you a few signs."

That piqued Gordon's interest; he'd never learned more than a handful of signs himself--all of them being various rude terms--but the thought of using his hands instead of his voice didn't summon up the all-too-familiar anxiousness that he faced when confronted with the thought of speaking. And with that, he nodded.

"I thought you'd be interested. I'm a bit rusty with it, but--Wait here a second, I think Dr. Kleiner has a book about it." She got to her feet, picking up her father's lab coat momentarily, running the fabric between her fingers and then dropping it onto Gordon's lap. "Here. You're the scientist, Gordon. Not me."

Gordon raised his eyebrow and then tried to offer it back.

"No, really, it's fine." Her voice wavered a bit, but she kept her resolve. "I don't really need it anymore."

 

* * *

Dr. Kleiner wasn't in his office; instead Barney was, sitting in the doc's chair, holding a small cardboard box with tiny holes poked in the sides. Although he had changed out of his metrocop armour to a set of well-worn civvies, he still hadn't shaved. Before she could make a quick exit, not exactly wanting to  _ avoid  _ him but also not wanting to really talk to him, he noticed her.

"Jeez Louise, Alyx, if you're set on repopulatin' the species with Gordon, you don't need to be so damn  _ loud  _ next time." 

The blood rushed to her face. "Ah-- _ what? _ "

"Some of us need our beauty sleep, y'know." He cracked a grin. "So I see you didn't take my advice."

"Yeah. About that, Barney--"

"Look, it wasn't my place to tell you--well, you know. I keep forgettin' you're not a kid anymore." He paused, lifting up the cardboard box and setting it on the desk. "The last few days have been rough on everybody."

Alyx didn't hear the last words, though; instead she looked at the box, which had shifted a few inches since he'd set it down. "Uh--did you put Lamarr in there? I know you don't like her very much, but isn't that a little--"

"Aw, didn't you hear? Lamarr's gone missin'. The doc thinks she got locked in the rocket, and he seemed pretty broke up about the whole thing so--" He lifted up the top of the box. A small, purple toad-like creature with one eye peeked out, lifting one of its forefeet and sticking out a long, blue tongue. "I found him this. It's some sort of--ah, a chubtoad or a chumtoad or somethin' like that. I'm callin' him Chubby for now."

Alyx held out her finger, and Chubby stuck out his tongue again, flicking it against the very end of her finger. "That tickles," she said, giggling, and the chumtoad hopped right out of the box into the palm of her hand. She lifted him up to her face; he yawned and lifted his forefoot again, before rolling over on his back. "I think he likes me."

"He likes  _ everybody, _ " Barney said, reaching out to stroke Chubby's belly with his finger.

"I thought you weren't an animal person!"

"I'm  _ not.  _ At least it's not a freakin' headhumper."

 

* * *

Gordon was sitting on the small cot, cross-legged, a pad of paper in his hand; he'd found it in the desk drawer along with an old pencil, and he decided to pass the time by doodling a little bit. He wasn't the artist of the family though; John was. Gordon's forte was math and science, and soon the margins of the half-finished sketch were filled with physics equations. 

A sudden chill went down his spine, and he dropped the pencil. Fumbling for it, he looked up, and saw  _ him _ .

Gordon didn't have any idea who he was. Our mutual friend, Eli had called him. He looked like some otherworldly cross between a government bureaucrat and an insurance salesman, and had an uncanny knack for disappearing into thin air.

And appearing _ ,  _ apparently. Either ways, he wasn't supposed to be in Gordon's room, so he just crossed his arms, staring up at the creep, willing him to either just get on with things or to get the fuck out of here.

"So, Dr. Freeman, we meet again."

Gordon didn't react; even raising his eyebrow would be too much like letting him win. Still, dressed in slacks, an over-sized woollen sweater, and a lab-coat, he didn't look at all imposing. 

The man in the briefcase took a few steps closer to the bed; the room seemed to get dark, and Gordon reached for the pencil, pressing the sharp lead against his thumb. It hurt, but the pencil was something real and solid and he was afraid if he let go he'd end up somewhere he didn't want to be.

"I do understand that Dr. Vance's...hmm... _ departure  _ was quite difficult for Miss Vance, as for yourself. However, in these somewhat troubled times, sometimes... _ drastic _ measures are required, and it is but a small repayment for...well, I am not quite at the liberty to say. I am certain that you understand the importance of... _ discretion.  _ However, my employers are...not quite so trusting as myself."

Gordon's stomach tightened in fear and anger, but still, he simply crossed his arms, tilting his chin up, narrowing his eyes to slits. 

"I am not... _ expecting _ you to understand what may appear to be an arbitrary decision." He brushed his hand against his tie, as though he was shooing away an insect; another chill went down Gordon's spine. "The reason I am here, Dr. Freeman, is to request a further... _ indulgence  _ on your behalf."

Before Gordon could blink he had been transported to an icy wasteland. He pulled his arms tighter around him, goosebumps appearing on his arms, the icy air raw and painful to his lungs. Was the bastard just going to drop him here, far away from everything, and leave him exposed to the cold? 

"The Borealis is of special interest to my... _ employers _ , and I cannot close my report until...every loose end is tied up. However, that...should  _ soon  _ be taken care of." With that, Gordon was transported back to his room, and the man turned, walking away, disappearing into a door that had not been there before. Gordon almost wanted to yell at him to come back and explain, but he couldn't; and almost immediately, exhaustion crept into the edges of his mind. Before he could think about it, he had fallen asleep.

 

* * *

"Hey, Gordon."

He opened his eyes, momentarily wondering where he was, before he noticed Alyx. He gave her a weak smile and used his finger to push his glasses back up his nose.

"I brought you something to eat." Gordon scooted over to give her room to sit next to him, and she put a tray down on the blanket in front of her. He took a mug of coffee, slurping it noisily down, and then made short work of the stack of pancakes in front of him.

While he was eating, Alyx had picked up the old notepad that Gordon had dropped on the floor, and flipped through it. He looked up, saw her turn the page, and quickly snatched it out of her hand, his face flushing red and a nervous chuckle coming from his throat. 

Of course, she had already seen the drawing: a rough, unpractised, half-finished sketch of her nude body, almost crowded out of the page by the physics equations jotted in the margins. "Uh-huh." Alyx smirked and gave him a wink, and before she could snatch it back from him, he threw it back into the drawer on the nightstand.

Fortunately for both of their sakes, Alyx didn't say anything more about it; instead, she lifted a tattered, well-thumbed paperback from the floor, quickly flipping through the first few pages. "I found that book, by the way."

~~~

Gordon, unsurprisingly, was a quick learner. He'd gotten the basics down in less than an hour, and by the time a few more hours had passed, she was impressed by how much he'd picked up; times like this, his intelligence really shone through.

By this time, they both wanted to get outside, so, with Dog trailing along behind them, they went for a walk in the valley at the north end of the compound. The sun was just beginning to fall, and leaves and dry grass crackled under their feet as they walked next to the dirt road. "Looks like they've been busy out here," Alyx said, looking at where the old lumber-mill had once stood; most of the broken wood had been cleared away, and already there were poles in the ground, marking out the area where it was to be rebuilt. "How long has it been, Gordon? Two or three days?"

'I forgot' was his answer. The signs were shaky and unpractised, but for the first time since they met, Gordon was actually  _ speaking  _ to her, and the butterflies in her stomach did a little dance at the fact.

Alyx took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked up at the sky. The clouds had cleared away, and there was no sign of the superportal from days before. It had been a close call.

"Do you think things are going to get better?" She almost didn't hear herself ask the question. "After we get to the Borealis and--"

'I hope.' Gordon paused, crossing his arms, looking up at the radio tower. For a moment, she saw a look of wistfulness in his eyes; sorrow for all those who had been lost and who would continue to be lost until the Combine were finally expunged from the miserable rock called earth. Alyx looked at him, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, and then put a hand on his shoulder. With a sad smile, he uncrossed his arms and looked at her. 'I really hope.'

"Gordon, I--" She swallowed, sitting down on the ground, unmindful of the sudden drop in temperature that came with the fall of dusk. Dog walked over, plopping himself next to her, and Gordon followed. "I mean, we--"

'We make a pretty good team.' 

"Yeah." For a while, neither of them said anything, instead watching the last glow of sunset disappear beyond the horizon. A cool wind blew through the valley; Alyx shivered, and Gordon immediately shifted closer to her, slipping his arm around hers. "We should get inside, shouldn't we?"

Just before they re-entered the close confines of the building, Alyx paused. "Gordon, wait a second." He turned toward her, and a lump grew in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to say it, so instead her hands scrambled to form the words. 'I love you.'

Gordon smiled at her. 'I know.'

 

* * *

"My dear, are you  _ absolutely  _ sure you have everything you need?" Dr. Kleiner asked for what was probably the fiftieth time; everybody was on edge, with reports that the Combine were heading northwards. Heading toward the Borealis. 

Alyx looked at Gordon, who gave her a wink and a smile, and she turned back to Dr. Kleiner. "No, I think we're good."

"Do you have enough clothing to keep warm? The conditions up there are quite frigid!"

Gordon raised his eyebrow at that, and she didn't blame him. She was wearing three sweaters, a pair of snow pants, and her father's old green vest, while Gordon had, on over his HEV suit, an ugly Christmas sweater Barney had given him and a heavy coat. 

"Dr. Kleiner, we'll be fine." Alyx hit the button to lower the small lift to the hangar, her eyes darting around, remembering the last time she had been here-- _ no-- _

_ Right.  _ There were no Advisors in the area anymore, everyone kept reassuring her; the two that had been responsible for her father's death had been hunted down and killed by some vortigaunts a day ago. Still, she couldn't wait to get out of this stupid hangar.

She exhaled, and felt Gordon's hand take hers, giving it a quick squeeze. She turned toward him, watching his hands quickly form the words. 'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine' was her response, also in sign language. There was no need for Dr. Kleiner to further pick up on any nervousness that her voice would expose. Still, Gordon knew, and already he had shifted a bit closer to her side. They both walked over to the waiting helicopter. Gordon tilted his head, looking at her, and then leaned over to button up her vest. It was the small, affectionate gestures like this that she was grateful for.

"Come on, Gordon," she said, climbing up into the elevator and holding out a hand to him. "The Borealis is waiting."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: The ending of Half-Life 2: Episode Two gave me lots of feelings, so like with the ending of Portal 2, I cope with it by writing fanfic.
> 
> It gets sort of NSFW (though nothing very graphic) in the second part, which I didn't intend. The story took its own direction, though. A lot of it did.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my little offering to the Half-Life fanfic section.


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